Feigling
by Dorminchu
Summary: In the safety of the trees, Eren won't stop struggling. Reiner gets carried away in an attempt to shut him up, and things quickly spiral out of control. [ch. 46, reiner/eren, thoroughly unpleasant]
1. i: outrage

_a/n: So, Eren/Reiner. Here's a ship I never thought I'd touch upon._

* * *

Within the Titan's jaws, Eren is safe enough. Bertholdt clings to his armoured shoulder, clutching Ymir's limp body.

And Reiner, he runs. For an ambiguous length of time, 'til he's not sure if it's fatigue or guilt that colours his steps and keeps him weary. There's not much to see. Just an endless stretch of grassy plane before him. The few Titans that he encounters are smart enough to leave him alone.

So, Reiner has time to think. Nothing good comes to mind, though. He doesn't dwell upon what he's doing, or what they'll have to do with Coordinate once they reach their destination.

Keeping an eye out for Titans or horses, even when he knows full well the Scouts will have to regroup. There's plenty of time for him and Bertholdt to put a good distance between the opposition; not enough to let himself get comfortable.

He's sick of worrying all the time, so he keeps up his pace, a mechanical, steady clip, not enough to tire out too quickly. It feels like hours, but he knows it can't be that long, watching the horizon. The sun moves at a crawl. This island is mocking him. He'll never be fast enough.

Closing his eyes, he can pretend he's close enough to shore. The others are waiting. Bertholdt and Annie and Marcel, and Galliard, and Zeke, and his mum and dad. All waiting.

It's easy to fall even deeper into the falsities of his previous existence. Like sticking your head underwater to see how long you can go without taking in air. Each time, you wait a little more. Prove that you're strong enough to withstand the burn in your lungs. Prove that you're the toughest sunuva' bitch on this cursed island.

Eren, still tangible on his tongue like a solid speck. A lump of meat, an indigestible pebble. Something that is kept alive out of necessity rather than sentimentality.

And Bertholdt on his shoulder.

Reiner opens his eyes and the world blooms into focus. He's still alone. Still moving.

Sky and field beyond. No Titans. But something else catches his attention: the familiar, dense shape of the forest.

He moves faster. Titans will probably be clustered, around and within the safety provided by these trees. He has to make this count.

* * *

Now: out of the Titan, ascending. Eren's tucked under his arm. Peaceful, despite his slurred, incomprehensible mumbling and the unsteady flutter of his legs against the air. He's heavily scarred, already lost a boot and his maneouvre gear. Reiner was smart. He took the gear for himself, but he was sloppy about the bite; hell, Eren's lucky he lost his arms and not half his torso.

His spine is intact. That's what matters.

Up in the trees, all four of them can recuperate.

Ymir keeps to her own branch. Bertholdt stays by his side until he suggests to Reiner that someone ought to keep an eye on her. So Reiner lets him go, choosing to stay by Eren's side, watching him heal. Once the kid comes back to consciousness, he'll just put up another fight. That's understandable. Eren's a spitfire to begin with. And he's got every right to be angry with him and Bertholdt, given the knowledge that's come to pass. Anyone would be angry.

By now, he's just putting up a façade of composure for Bertholdt's sake. Reiner dreads the impending confrontation with the kid, because at the end of the day, Eren is just that — a _kid_. They're all children on opposing sides. Reiner's a boy trapped in the body of a man. Bertholdt's the inverse; boy-ish, sure, but still wiser than any _boy_ Reiner has known. And Ymir? She's an enigma he would rather not think about at present.

The sun has yet to set, colouring the sky a light pink where it touches the horizon. The air is chilly up here; down below, the Titans are lurking about. More are coming out from among the trees, the longer they wait. When Bertholdt points this out, Reiner doesn't acknowledge him, but he wonders if they are attracted to Eren and Ymir, who are both still healing. There's no way to be sure without somebody losing another limb.

But there's been enough of a reprieve from the Scouts and native Titans that Reiner is almost — _almost_ — ready to let his guard down a little.

Until Eren wakes up, silent, which is far more frightening. Reiner expected noise, expected threats. But Eren is calm. The first words that are out of his mouth are: "Why are my arms gone?"

This isn't an unfair question. Bloody nubs are all that remain. Reiner raises his eyebrows. When Eren scowls and rolls his shoulders haplessly, it's a grotesquely comedic image.

"I didn't have much time to get you outta there. Had to make some sacrifices."

All Eren says is: "Oh."

His eyes are darker than Reiner's ever seen them. It's like the monster lying dormant has come to the surface, trapped in the body of a mortal.

"Reiner…" starts Bertholdt quietly, "didn't you say we'd talk, once he woke up?"

Ymir perks up from her perch below. Reiner shrugs, says: "Sure, we can talk. What d'you want to discuss?"

"Why'd you bite my fuckin' arms off?" Eren cuts in before anyone can answer. "Why didn't you kill me while you had the chance?"

"You know, you're lucky I let you keep your head," says Reiner before he can think better of it. He's done pretending to be civil.

Eren's smile is slow to dawn on his lips, harsh and twisted. "I'm lucky? I'm fucking LUCKY? You bit my goddam arms off!" He's snarling. "I guess you're right! I AM lucky! I must be the luckiest person in the world, to be able to reflect on how I've been captured by a couple of heartless bastards!"

Ymir sighs audibly. This does not help curb Reiner's temper. Who does Jaeger think he is, to call them murderers? _How many people,_ Reiner thinks viciously, _have YOU killed without knowing it, and been told you're just eliminating mindless Titans?_

As much as Reiner would like to spit these words at him, he's sure they'll just go in one ear and out the other. There's no telling how Ymir will respond to such information, either. So he holds his tongue and looks away.

"Oh, what? You're just gonna ignore me, now? Don't you have something to say for yourself? What about you, Bertholdt?"

Bertholdt's exhale is slow. "What about me, Eren?"

Eren's so angry it's like he's fighting for words. "You — and him, you knew where I came from, all this time, and you were — I can't believe I trusted you, I can't believe I let myself think we were —" his voice rises, then trembles, cutting off only to return at full-force "— you're a couple of fuckin' _traitors_!" he spits out, petulant, as if he's too tired for his own emotions, slumping back into the tree, almost defeated.

There's a difference between them, Reiner thinks. Eren, may be useful in his own right, yet he's never claimed to be humanity's saviour. And yet, he probably still thinks he can protect everyone that matters to him. Reiner likes to think he's at least realistic about who he can and cannot save. Many people will die in a war. A lot of them are innocents. Eren doesn't know the truth, yet. He can't hope to understand.

Running all of that over in his head should make this easier to deal with. It doesn't help at all.

"What do you want me to say?" Bertholdt speaks with a forced air of calm. "That you're right? That we _are_ monsters? We didn't know any better. We were used, just like you're being used by the Scouts. All of us, we're pawns in a war."

"Don't lump me in with you!" Eren spits at him.

Reiner stiffens. "Leave him alone, Eren."

"I wasn't talkin' to you!" Eren's laugh is venomous. "And look. You're defending him. I can't — nah, I can believe it. I just don't want to, that you'd be such a…"

He rambles on. There comes an urge, selfish and ugly, to throw the boy over the tree and let the Titans consume his ungrateful body. But Reiner knows that won't do any good. Hell, it's not like he's even asking Eren to agree with him, just listen for a moment. Maybe he's slipping, starting to see a bit of the same idealistic idiot who thought he could save his mother from an inevitable fate.

The idea of this comparison makes Reiner round on the boy, sick with anger. "Shut up," he growls, unable to stand the vitriol, "shut the fuck up, there are Titans around."

"Make me," Eren snarls at him, "or I'll fuckin' kill you first."

The boy grunts when Reiner shunts him upright, against the tree. Reiner doesn't know what he's doing. He just wants the impossible. He's always wanted the impossible. This is no different.

"Reiner!" Bertholt cries, but it comes as though from faraway; blood is singing in Reiner's ears. Eren's eyes go wide with shock, and then he reverts to anger.

"What the hell d'you think you're —"

Suddenly they're nose-to-nose. Eren gasps when their foreheads knock together. Reiner's grip on his shoulders is bruising.

"Stop," Reiner says harshly. "I swear to God. Before I —"

"Before you what." Eren's eyes are hollow. He's sneering. "Before you _what_ ," he says again.

"I'm not gonna kill you, if you keep talking like that. But you'll wish I did."

Eren's anger is underscored by uncertainty. "What the hell — what are you talking about?" he demands. "You have me where you want, just —"

He starts to struggle again. Reiner's hands are large enough he can dwarf half of the boy's head. And with that thought in mind, he grabs him by the hair and slams his skull against the tree to make him stop.

"Listen to yourself!" he roars. "You don't even have an argument! You just wanna tell me you hate me, but you think I don't know that by now? It won't bring your mother back! It won't bring anyone back!"

"DON'T —" Eren shrieks, his face screwed up "— _TALK_ ABOUT HER, YOU PIECE OF —" He's back to incoherence, his thrashing an act of ungainly violence that is more pathetic than anything. Reiner tries remind himself that, Shifter or not, Eren was born on this island. He is nothing special, even with the Coordinate inside of him, but more importantly, he doesn't know any better.

(It strikes Reiner, in this moment, that he is probably too far gone to recover, and his own anger is borne of a guilty conscience, even when a big part of him wants to knock some sense into the kid's stubborn head before he hurts himself. He's not guilty enough to forego anger. He just doesn't want to argue anymore.)

Until Reiner realises it's not rage that keeps Eren wracked with grief; his cheeks are still flushed, but his eyes are swimming. And Reiner doesn't know what to do with him. He just looks and looks as though it will give him an idea of what he is supposed to do, but:

"Stop —" Eren chokes, turning his head into his chest, "d-don't fuckin' — look at me, like that, you don't have the right, you don't —"

But the fire's gone. He shudders apart in Reiner's hands. And Reiner doesn't slam his head again. Something like instinct wells up inside of him and he wraps the boy up in a stiff, crushing sort of hug and rocks. And Eren sputters but does not fight. He instead shivers, slowly going limp.

Reiner is struck by this, because he got Eren to shut up, but he's also taken by the way the kid is curling into him, perhaps provided something he has always wanted but never known to ask for. So Reiner leans up, plants a kiss to the crown of his head.

It's a mistake. Eren goes tense. He doesn't say anything. Staring at Reiner, red-eyed and pathetic, making no attempt to hide his grief. And Reiner would be loathe to admit it to anyone but he's scared as hell.

(Or he thinks he is, at first. But the longer he looks Eren Jaeger in the face, the quicker it dawns on him that he is not afraid. It feels much more like jealousy, like spite and repugnance. _How dare you. What gives you the right to grieve when I've done nothing but try to help you, you ungrateful little_ —)

Grabbing Eren by the hair, tugging him up into a kiss that can hardly be classified as such, all crushing mouths and jaws and teeth, rough and bruising, just shy of bloody. Eren's spitting, his whole face flushed pink.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bertholdt shouts, appalled. "We're don't have time for —"

"Stay out of it." Reiner hardly recognises his own voice, like that of a madman, someone ready to kill over fresh meat. Turning back to Eren, there's a look in the kid's eyes that gives him pause. Eren probably knows he's in too deep. Pride and anger are the only reasons he's still standing his ground. But Reiner doesn't feel anything but a vicious sort of possessiveness; after all, it's his duty to protect the power the boy contains, not the vessel itself.

Distantly he thinks he can hear Ymir say something terse like: "Not _my_ problem. And it's not yours, really, so why don't you and I just keep an eye on the Titans until they work this out?"

Tune it out, coming back to the only thing that matters. "You think you're the only one who's lost anything?" Reiner whispers into Eren's wet cheek. "Do you even know what you're fighting for?"

Eren's been watching the two of them as though Reiner isn't here. He jolts at the question. "What the hell is wrong with you," he says, but he sounds afraid more than angry.

Reiner laughs softly. "A hell of a lot."

Vaguely, Reiner wonders what is making him do this. Perhaps living amongst these Eldians has caused him to become soft, twisted in his head. Perhaps he's seeking after Eren in a bid to capture that righteous anger, that perishable innocence, the perverted reflection of himself in another's eyes. This isn't love. But it's not exactly hatred. It's something wretched and fucked-up and far too _human_ for his liking. It's not as though he doesn't — _didn't_ — care for the boy, when they were cadets. He just won't allow himself to bend like Annie. If he is to be denied everything else in this miserable existence, it's Eren he will take. Not in any good conscience, but he's not well enough to stop himself.

That's Bertholdt's job. But Bertholdt isn't here right now. And Reiner's finished playing the part of Marcel, at least, for the moment.

Eren's breath is ragged, feverish. Reiner sits back, still hunched over him. "You think I'm scared enough not to take what I want?"

The boy's expression wavers on the line between fear and despair. Then his eyes harden like glass. "You won't," he says, falsely sardonic, "you're all talk, you ain't really gonna do shit to m —" He hits the tree again, the argument knocked out of him temporarily.

"Someone really oughta put you in your place," says Reiner coldly. Pulls the boy in for another kiss before Eren can bite.

Eren never bites. He just trembles. Reiner starts rucking up his shirt, mouthing down his throat.

"What ab — about Ber — _Bertholdt,"_ he hisses, frantic, as though to redirect.

"What about 'im?"

Running a hand up the boy's naked chest; his body is small, unmarred where it is not regenerating, sticky with blood and sweat against his own hardened fingers. Eren becomes hazy-eyed and forlorn. Reiner smooths his hair back in an attempt at consolation, but: "Don't — don't touch me like that, you prick. If you're gonna, just…" His body shudders, hackles raised. "Just get it over with."

He can do that. Tugging the boy out of his chinos, he probably ruins 'em in the process, flesh rubbed red where the fabric has chafed against skin. Eren's body jerks at the violence of the motion, but his lips part: _"Reiner…"_ Could be a plea for reconsideration or to advance. The ambiguity of the situation makes this decision easier.

The boy jolts when his legs are drawn apart, constricted by fabric. Reiner ignores his own dick for the moment and takes his thumb into his mouth briefly, withdraws it short thereafter with a little _pop_ to cup one thigh in the same palm, rubbing saliva over his arse-hole before pressing in. Whatever Eren's next insult was, it turns into a gasp, hoarse and squeaky.

Reiner supposes Eren doesn't like to be touched to begin with. He would be mindful if he weren't seeing red.

It's hot inside, kind of like a live animal before it's killed and gutted. Tight, mostly. _Probably never been fucked like this_ , Reiner thinks and doesn't say, then feels like hitting something just to feel the sting, a reminder he isn't dreaming and he's just as much of a sorry piece of shit as he would like to forget.

But that's beside the point. He isn't gonna fit at this rate. He takes away his hand and weighs his options. There's no oil. Can't risk drawing blood when Eren's unstable enough to try and Shift, even if he can't transform at all. Reiner supposes he could let the kid come first, but it'll dry too quick. He's not even that angry, now. He splays Eren again with his thumb, wetting his lips, eyes drifting down.

He pushes in with a finger. With his other hand he catches Eren by the dick. The boy gasps, groaning before he can stop himself. His hips jump to the touch and he's chewing his lip viciously, head bowed, whole-body tense. Reiner's smile is wooden. He gives Eren's arse a little squeeze the way he imagines one would squeeze a breast.

Then he ducks down. "What're y-you —" Eren gasps.

"You want it to hurt or not," Reiner says, nose trailing down his stomach. He gives the kid's cock an idle glance before he takes it in his mouth.

Eren's struck into silence, for the moment. Reiner pokes around until he finds what he's looking for; the sound that leaves Eren is somewhat disconcerting, like a cat in distress. He keeps choking on air, the longer Reiner goes at it. He gets him close. Won't let him come, yet.

Once he thinks he's done enough work he lets the cock fall out of his mouth and gives Eren another finger, nipping, licking at his thighs, enough to leave a mark but not to puncture. Eren tries to close his legs around him, or perhaps keep him where he is. Reiner snorts, parts that hold easily. Sitting up, he wraps his free hand around the boy's throat and starts pumping his fingers much harder. "You're an insufferable little shit, but I'm not gonna kill you," says Reiner huskily. "Ain't safe to be makin' that much noise."

Eren rasps, his eyes popping open, flashing and accusatory. Trying to pant but he can only manage these shallow huffs. Reiner crooks his fingers again, loosening his grip on the boy's jugular, and Eren moans raggedly into the open air before his hand closes again.

Then Reiner stops. Repositions. Thumb against the bob of his throat. The look on Eren's face is somewhere between distress and indignation and genuine fear as Reiner's working with his own pants, pulling out his cock because it's been goddam painful for a while now. Lifting Eren off the ground one-handed is easy. Pinning him is easy, too, when he is crumpled, his legs still tangled in his trousers, caught between their bodies. For the hell of things, Reiner grabs both their cocks and starts pumping at leisure. Eren's eyes flutter, hissing every breath through his teeth.

Reiner adds a third finger, cupping his arse in his palm. Eren makes a pitiful noise and starts trying to wriggle but there's nowhere to go. Shoved back 'gainst the tree, Eren gasps raggedly when his fingers slip out, then goes quiet and tense once Reiner moves in close, brushes his fingers to his mouth.

"Suck," he says. "Or I can just take you like this."

It's almost pathetic, how easy that was, and how quickly Eren turns mutinous.

"F-fuck," he seethes, and never gets around to _you_ because Reiner already has an answer, cutting him off with a squeeze, turning him over as the kid coils himself up. Reiner hauls him arse-first into his lap before one hand slides between his own legs and he starts to push.

From this angle, Reiner can sorta glean how he looks. His mouth falls open, his eyes drawn shut, rutting weakly against the air, steam seething from his body. Reiner says nothing. Takes him slow, but he's not gentle, and he doesn't stop until he's all-in. And then he sits, and waits, which is probably the kindest thing he's done since starting.

When Eren tries to get smart with him, Reiner grabs him by the scruff of the neck and holds Eren's head and stubby shoulders over open air, thrusting in tandem; suddenly Eren isn't snappish anymore. Suddenly he's gasping, making these broken noises like a wounded animal that stick in his throat each time Reiner moves. Eventually he stops struggling and just goes limp.

The rhythm deteriorates, becomes less about finesse and more about a show of force. Reiner's hand skates up his back, thumb following the notches of his spine. Eren loses composure when Reiner bends down and presses a rougher kiss to his shoulders and nape. Maybe it'd be sweet if they fancied each other.

Way down below, there's a Titan, maybe seven or eight metres, eclipsed by of one of the trees. Hiding. It's gazing up at them. Reiner can't help but huff.

Then he remembers where he is. He brings Eren back to solid ground, closing him in. Angling him just so in his lap the way he did with fingers, and suddenly Eren's incoherent. His legs are shaking. Reiner's hands are full with his body, and it's less of a fuck than a rut, coalescing heat and steam until it's damn near suffocating.

At some point, Reiner comes, but it hardly registers. He just sort of fucks Eren through it until he can't fuck anymore. And then he stops, pulls out, lets him fall, breathing harshly.

Reiner cleans himself up in silence. Eren remains limp. If not for the flush in his cheeks, the way his body shivers slightly, he could be a dead man.

The Titan has not moved since Reiner noticed it first.

"You see that?" Reiner whispers, bending down close to Eren's hairline. "They're waitin', to see if I let you fall. But you're too important to let die, after the shit I've done to get to you."

Eren says nothing. Reiner scowls. Doesn't want to look at the boy anymore. He turns away. Doesn't want to look at anyone, anymore.

Silence in the aftermath, uneasy and fragile.

Reiner knows what's coming before the boy lunges at him. He can anticipate the lunge and bite, the little teeth in his jugular that won't kill, only maim. He feels the anger beneath Eren's skin before the explosion fills his ears.

He's not angry, though. He's not sure what it is he's feeling when he hits the ground.

* * *

 _a/n: This was actually rather painful to write and then read over again. Worse than **Entwirren an den Nahten**. Holy shit._

 _But let me put the above fic aside for a moment and mention that this project wasn't birthed from spite, or ill-will towards any of the characters; as a matter of fact, I really like Reiner's character! He's like a big brother to the cadets one moment, helping Connie escape to his hometown or trying to have an honest, albeit damning, conversation with Eren on the true nature of his mission with Bertholdt. But then he'll remember his actual purpose as a Warrior, and show himself to be an asshole when tensions are running high, venting his frustration towards Annie and Bertholdt more than once, even expressing bewilderment at the actions and mannerisms of his fellow cadets when in the company of his family and fellow Warriors, circa chapter 94._

 _tl;dr - Reiner's complex. I really don't want this to be the last story I write featuring him predominantly. And as always, your feedback is highly appreciated!_


	2. ii: a warm place

_a/n: Another one. I suppose it's for myself as much as everyone else who's read this far. (To be real with you guys; I've never felt physically ill during the writing/editing/reading process of anything I've posted, until I came up with this.)_

* * *

It takes a while for his breath to come back. Even longer for him to accept the fact that he is still alive. Unsure how that's possible.

The air kisses his skin where he's exposed. He shivers, and even something that small and involuntary is enough to leave him exhausted. Where are Bertholdt and Ymir? He doesn't know.

Still trembling, he realises it's not just from cold. He grits his teeth, stubborn, clenching phantom fists. Ain't gonna break in front of anyone. Especially not after —

He never finishes the thought; a wave of nausea hits him so hard it takes his breath away. Whiplash, meet vertigo.

Something's coming back up. Panicking, almost hyperventilating, even when he tries not to. No arms, so he has to rock, back and forth, to build up momentum. Tangled up in his own clothes and filth, he's gonna be sick, he's gonna be sick, oh God he needs to be sick but it won't come out it won't come out of him and maybe dry-drowning in his own vomit, dying on his knees, is okay, because it'll be his own decision at least —

But somehow he manages to turn himself over, not quite fast enough. He retches, thin and insubstantial, all over the tree. Some of it gets on his face. His throat is dry and burning. Just when thinks he's done it happens again, waiting in agony for the next purge that will only make him feel rawer; trying to stop, will himself back to control, but his body won't let him.

It goes and goes. Amazed he has so much bile inside him. Eventually left dry-heaving, desperate for air. He groans aloud. Trying to register his own voice. Still trembling violently, still clenching his jaw. Face is wet. Without his volition. Weakness is an undesirable quality of being human.

Pain's getting worse, everywhere. Skin's scraped raw where he is exposed. Bruises forming. Should be healing. Probably bleeding instead.

(That shouldn't make him laugh, but he can't help himself; just a little wheeze, chuckle, his breathing ragged and half-hysterical. Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with him.)

Off-balance, he can't control his own movement and he topples again, face first. Acrid smell pervades his nostrils and he tries very hard not to gag. He curls upon himself the best he can. As though to hide, salvage his sorry self from the world.

(Hide from what? It's done. Maybe Reiner will kill him next.)

New sound reaches his ears, ugly, wretched, continuous. Eren concedes that he might be the one making that noise. Head's all foggy. He knows he must be in a lot of pain still, but it's as if he is floating outside of his physical body.

At some point, though, he stops. Too tired to weep. He could be caught up in his tumultuous emotions again but no, he isn't, not at all. Perfectly calm. The anger, the childish hatred, it's burned out, leaving him hollow. A perfect circle of progression. The stupid, self-righteous boy is back where he started. Only this time, he knows what he has to do.

Absolutely nothing matters except getting his hands on Reiner. Reiner, who won't even look at him.

 _Fucker_ , he thinks and does not say, his mind a vicious whirlwind.

On the surface, Eren is perfectly tempered. He has to save his strength. He has to wait. Closing his eyes, he really concentrates on his breathing. Nose all snotty. Probably running. Doesn't matter.

 _Everything is gonna be okay. You'll make sure he never does that again. To you, or anyone else._

 **AGAIN** : and the word's like a blemish, it echoes and runs revolutions around the inside of his rattled skull. This a cruel world, and an even crueler joke.

 _That won't help you. Have to get up._

And Eren tries, he really tries. Even breathing hurts. His body protests movement, the monotony of his continued existence. Head pounding viciously.

 _Fuck you, I'll fight if I want._

Rolling over so he is pressed back against the tree. More pain, but at least he's upright. Unsteady now, he rocks himself drunkenly, trying to concentrate.

His eyes drift downward. Titans are clustering around the base of the tree like hungry dogs. Anticipatory.

This is the perfect moment for Reiner to crush his head in. For whatever reason, though, he doesn't turn around.

 _Focus. You're almost there. You're so close._

Even pain isn't enough to distract him. Nothing will come between him and this single, precious chance. It's easier to justify his actions when he knows he's about to attack a monster. Reiner's not the one who's injured. Reiner can't transform. Reiner doesn't have the fucking spine to start what Eren's about to finish.

 _Don't think about it now._

Bracing himself. Every inch of him poised to act. Reiner hasn't moved. Eren waits and waits, but nothing happens. So, Eren decides he will act first; lunging, clumsy, still tangled up but moving fast. Mouth open, teeth sinking into his meaty shoulder. Drawing blood.

Shout of pain from Reiner. Another sound leaves Eren in response, muffled around flesh, feral, triumphant.

Titan explodes into being, light flooding the space around him and the beast envelops them both within. The branch cracks under pressure, breaks before the Titan's even fully formed. Falling fast — and Eren's ready _(almost)_ to accept that he is probably going to die here, but it'll be worth it to kill the bastard —

* * *

 _— after all, everything he has forsaken has been building up to this moment —_

* * *

— and impact shatters him —

— and the Titans fall upon them both —

— tearing at him —

— Eren can't move —

— going to die in the dirt like an animal —

* * *

 _— fuck you I won't give in —_

 _— not like this —_

 _— never never **never again** —_

* * *

Screaming as loud as he can, his throat raw, pure emotional defiance. The titan screams with him — an unnatural illumination floods the space beneath his closed eyes like some unholy awakening —

Lightning strikes on a cloudless day — all at once, the other titans, they drop him like he's poison, scurrying away. The ground rumbles with the sound of retreat. Inside the nape of the malformed beast, Eren shivers.

Knowing it's temporary safety. Knowing he has seconds to do what he must.

So he forces himself to rise with arms, brittle and malformed — a living abomination he has brought into being — because the broken body of his enemy is nestled under flesh and muscle.

But Eren has to make sure he's dead. Trying not to think on what he is about to do — he makes of himself an offering to the birds — fresh carrion — sending a message: eradicate the tumor festering beneath the skin.

They creep towards him, careful, like he's going to bite — some put their tiny hands on him checking for a breach — and then teeth sink into him.

Eren cries out weakly. Too late to stop. More fall upon him, more hands clawing at the open wound, seeking sustenance within.

Eren gasps, unable to control the sound leaving his throat. He shrieks, and it won't stop, the pain won't stop — desperate, he screams out loud, hoarse and high-pitched because it's agony, sweet, unendurable agony being torn into all over again — hyperventilating unable to tear his eyes away from what is happening to him —

* * *

 **— isn't this what you wanted? —**

* * *

And he knows by now that Reiner is dead, and the others will come for him (soon?) maybe too late — and all he can do is concentrate on survival but the only question remaining is if that will be enough. He doesn't know if he can make this stop in time; his power over the mob is newfound, he's unsure how to wield it —

Is it better, then, to die here than continue to live, broken and humiliated? He doesn't know, isn't sure he wants to die, but this isn't so bad. He can't even feel pain anymore. Maybe he'll see them again, mum and dad and everyone else who he can recall by face or name, everyone he's failed, let down, forgotten —

* * *

 **— stop** , says a friendly little voice in his head, **you can't die just yet** —

* * *

Eren blinks.

 _Why not?_

* * *

— **because** , like he's being stupid on purpose, **there are things you need to see people to protect to live and breath and fight for, you're not done, you need to survive** — **you have to live for them live for yourself you have to get over the walls, there are questions you haven't answered** **—**

* * *

 _Does it matter?_ Eren thinks, uninterested. _I'm going to die someday._

* * *

 **— coward,** sneers the voice, **do you want to die that badly? think of your parents, your friends — why won't you live for their sake? or are you afraid of what they will say when they see you —**

* * *

 _They can't,_ he thinks desperately, _I can't let them see me like this, please let me die, I want to die I want this to end God let it end why are you keeping me alive there's nothing left for me —_

* * *

 **— what little faith you have for the ones that love you —**

* * *

Titans will take him apart, soon. A heavy, black sickness engulfs him from all sides.

* * *

 **— you must have SOMETHING else to live for —**

* * *

A new rumbling fills his ears. Sight and sound, everything is blurring into nonsense.

* * *

 **— or are you throwing it all away for the sake of your captors? —**

* * *

He's nearing the end.

* * *

 _(Maybe it won't be okay.)_

* * *

The flutter of a pulse, his eyes are lidded and heavy.

* * *

 _(Better off knowing than not at all.)_

* * *

He opens his eyes.

* * *

Another burst of light and heat — the Titans drop him and he's risen from the corpse, reborn, naked and bloody and whole, a god in the body of a boy — and the boy, he smiles, because it's not over, but he isn't going to be lost, he is free —

— steam filling his lungs, and the rumble turns into a roar like the earth splitting open, and they come for him, they take him up into their arms crying his name cursing the enemy, cursing the titans, horses and soldiers circling the corpse at his knees, and he lets himself be cut away by blades, dragged from hell up up up into the beautiful light — finally at peace.


End file.
